


A Field of Diamonds in the Soft Morning Light

by Red_Rover



Category: Figure Skating RPF, Virtue Moir RPF
Genre: F/M, Hot Chocolate Porn, I will not be committing to anything more than a one-shot at this time, Romanticizing the Harsh Realities of Winter, VM are BFFs, Yuletide Fluff, coffee porn, please see below for evidence, the author is projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:34:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Rover/pseuds/Red_Rover
Summary: “Scott. It’s Saturday. It’s not even business hours,” she greeted him in a gravelly voice laced with sleep as she rolled to her side and let her phone balance on her cheek, returning her arms to the cozy warmth under the covers.
Relationships: Scott Moir & Tessa Virtue, Scott Moir/Tessa Virtue
Comments: 35
Kudos: 78





	A Field of Diamonds in the Soft Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lapetitemort20](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapetitemort20/gifts).



> First of all, if you are one of my nosy sisters, click away right now and kindly never talk to me about the fact that I write RPF now. Thank you.
> 
> For La Petite Mort: Thank you for your endless encouragement, inspiring me to write, and for being such kind a genuine human being. Here’s to you. Love you, my friend.
> 
> To the rest of you, Happy Solstice Eve!

Tessa woke to the ringing of her phone on her bedside table, pulling her from a deep slumber. Looking at the call display, she sighed and accepted the call.

“Scott. It’s Saturday. It’s not even business hours,” she greeted him in a gravelly voice laced with sleep as she rolled to her side and let her phone balance on her cheek, returning her arms to the cozy warmth under the covers.

“Tess! It snowed last night, there’s fifteen centimetres of fresh snow to tromp through, it’s the solstice, and I miss you. We’re going to watch the sunrise!” 

The man sounded energetic enough to light up a whole city block. God, what’s his problem, Tessa thought to herself. 

They began doing this when they moved to Canton. Welcoming the subdued winter sun together as it peaked over the horizon on the shortest day of the year. At the time – and really their whole career – December twenty-first was usually still a training day, despite being close to Christmas. With Nationals just around the corner and Olympic dreams, they couldn’t afford time off for the holidays. They might get a day or two for Christmas to make a quick trip home or a family member would come to visit, but the solstice was just for them. 

It started when Tessa was sixteen, and she decided they needed more spirituality in their lives. She insisted that Scott take her to a hill, face the car eastward, and watch the sun rise while they talked about and meditated on what had happened so far in the season, and what changes they needed to make in their programs going into Nationals and Worlds. Scott had initially rolled his eyes and scoffed at the idea, but of course, did whatever Tessa asked him, even if he thought it was all some pagan bullshit. Soon enough though, he began to expect - and even look forward to it, year after year. Over time, their ritual evolved into a time for them to be just Tessa and Scott together - not Virtue and Moir, Canada’s Olympic hopefuls. He liked being in the still darkness of the morning with Tessa, reflecting on their time together. 

On the other end of the line, Scott bit his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows, anticipating a struggle to get Tessa to agree to his plan. If cell phones had cords, he’d be twirling it excitedly. He loves being the first one to get to see Tessa in the morning; unguarded and affectionate.

“Moir, it’s - ” she picked up her phone off her cheek to check the time and weather, blinking her bleary eyes at the bright screen, “6:23 AM, and minus 12 with the wind chill. Why, why would I leave my warm bed? Shouldn’t you be watching sunrises with your fiancé, anyways?”

“I want to go with you – it’s tradition!” Scott whined. Tessa sighed, and he knew she was almost convinced. He went in for the kill, “I got a new Chemex pour over and have my coffee ratios dialed in.”

Scott had become obsessed with the perfect cup of coffee when they moved to Montreal. He bought an espresso machine, and Tessa was his willing guinea pig as he experimented with different grind sizes, roasts, coffee varietals, and extraction times to find the elusive balance between acidity and bitterness, and an even layer of crema blanketing the perfectly viscous shot. He worked doggedly towards achieving velvety micro foam in steamed milk like he worked towards honing his skating skills. Soon, though, like with their sport, he gave up on perfection, but before long he became quite an excellent barista. By the time they went to the Olympics, Tessa had come to expect a travel mug with the coffee of the day for her and Scott eagerly awaiting her arrival to tell her about the latest brew as they stroked around the rink, hand in hand, in those private early mornings. She missed that.

“Better be a damn good cup of coffee,” Tessa warned while she stretched her legs and swung them out of bed, shivering when her bare feet hit the cold floor.

“You got it, T! I’ll be there in forty-five minutes!” Scott pumped his fist in victory, very pleased with the success of this phone call. It was always a gamble calling to ask Tessa for something this early in the morning.

“Hey, kiddo?” she added softly, “I miss you, too.”

\--

True to his word, Scott rang her doorbell forty-three minutes later. Tessa was just finishing getting her winter clothes on – a vision in fur cuffed boots, warm black leggings, a sherpa coat, plaid scarf and a black toque with a ridiculously large pom pom completed the look. She stuffed her mittens into her pocket as she opened the door.

Scott was standing with his hands in the pockets of his black down puffer jacket with a red zipper and Hudson’s Bay logo on the left breast, wearing whiskered and faded blue jeans with the waffle knit of his long-johns visible through the denim, kicking her welcome mat with lace-up brown leather boots. His head was adorned with the iconic Team Canada toque sitting too high up, allowing a curl of his dark hair to escape over his forehead. He looked up at her and smiled softly. The faint lines around his eyes crinkled. He looked good; a sight for sore eyes.

Tessa swallowed the compliment back. “I don’t see any coffee,” she said instead, raising an accusatory eyebrow in his direction.

Scott huffed out a laugh “It’s in the truck.”

“This is coercion,” Tessa crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

Scott reached for her hand over the threshold, “I know it takes a lot to get Tessa Virtue out of bed on a Saturday morning. There’s more to me than my dashing good looks, you know,” he said with a smirk as he pulled her out the door.

When Tessa saw the vehicle, illuminated by the yellow glow of her garage light in her driveway, her jaw dropped and she whipped her head around to look at Scott. “What in seven hells?!”

Instead of the familiar, sleek Acura sports car, the only tracks down the snow covered street lead to a very old half-ton farm truck, rattling and shuddering as it sat idling in her driveway, staying warm in the cold, dark morning. Rust lined the wheel wells, only the passenger side had a running board and it looked like it was hanging onto the truck with merely a wish and a prayer. Holding the large rims with studded tires onto the truck were only four lug-nuts each, although there were seven bolts. Sitting in the dented box – which was red, in contrast to the faded sky blue of the two-door cab – was a wooden toboggan which, fortunately, appeared to be in much better shape than the truck it was riding in. 

“She’s a seventy-four Chev, got great bones. I’m going to restore her -” Scott smiled fondly at the rust bucket. 

Tessa shook her head and smiled at his latest wannabe farm-boy project. She shot a sideways look at Scott and elbowed him in the ribs. “Dear God, please let us get to the hill in one piece. Amen” 

Scott just grinned back at her. 

Tessa climbed up onto the upholstered bench seat, worn from decades of use, but not dirty, as she had suspected it would be. Scott had clearly started on cleaning up the cab. There was a large, skinny steering wheel that Scott casually leaned his left hand on, his right coming to rest on the long, spindly gear shift, disappearing into the floor. On the dash was a radio with a manual dial and a tape deck, framed by a wooden veneer. On top sat what Tessa was looking for – not one, but two large stainless steel thermoses. 

“You’ll have to do a bit of mixing in the little cups, sorry,” Scott said sheepishly as Tessa reached for them. She opened the first and was greeted with the roasty, toasty, and slightly smoky aroma of black coffee from her favourite local roaster. She passed the container to Scott so she could investigate the contents of the second thermos.

She gasped as she opened the top looking wide eyed at Scott, “It isn’t!”

“It is,” Scott’s face broke into a broad grin as he took in Tessa’s surprise and joy of finding her favourite liquid treat. Scott hoped Tessa was remembering the same morning he was as she wafted the steam that rose up towards her nose and enjoyed the intoxicating scent. 

It took her back to those special weekend mornings in Montreal, where in addition to his coffee obsession, although he didn’t have an affinity for it himself, Scott also liked making chocolate delights for Tessa, as a treat after a tough week training. When he heard Tessa finally start to get moving on weekend mornings, Scott would begin the process of making her his version of a mocha to go with breakfast. Tessa would shuffle down the hall to their kitchen, hair hanging loose around her shoulders, face free of makeup, and stifle a yawn as she sat on a stool at the granite counter, wearing one of his shirts and sometimes a pair of panties, settling in to watch Scott work in the kitchen as he prepared her breakfast. 

On the particular day Tessa was recalling, he had just gotten out of the shower and stood shirtless, a pair slippers keeping his toes warm, and sweatpants slung low on his hips, showing off his chiseled abdominals and happy trail disappearing beneath waistband. His hair was still wet; it dripped down his back, running between the planes of the sculpted muscles there. Tessa wanted to lick it off. Neither of them spoke as he worked, unwilling to break the sacred silence of the morning with meaningless chatter.

Scott had started by pouring a mixture of heavy cream and whole milk from a local co-op into a pot with a cinnamon stick, a pinch of salt, a touch of maple syrup, and set it on the flame to come to a slow boil. He then began to break a bar of decadent, single origin dark chocolate into a bowl. Scott grabbed a kitchen towel hanging from the oven handle to quickly tidy up the chocolatey mess he had made, and casually tossed it to rest on his broad shoulder. He popped his first two fingers in his mouth to suck off the sweet chocolate there, as if it didn’t set her heart racing and make her belly to swoop with wanting. Once the milk and cream boiled, he poured the hot mixture over the chocolate pieces, and let it sit while he turned his attention to the espresso. 

This was Tessa’s favourite part of watching him. The confidence and efficiency with which he weighed the beans, placed them into the burr grinder, then poured the grounds into the porta-filter was mesmerizing. She remembered how the veins in his hand and forearm pulled her focus as he tamped the grounds, and his brow furrowed in concentration, intent on getting the right pressure. Tessa had clamped her legs together and bit her lip. It was unfair the things he did to her without even trying. Scott noticed her reaction and waggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively, earning a giggle from her. While the espresso was being pulled, Scott turned back to the chocolate, giving his ass a shake for her as he went and smirking over his shoulder. The pieces now melted by the heat of the cream and milk, he whisked it all together, like he was emulsifying a ganache, until the mixture was frothy, timing it to finish at the same time as the espresso. Scott poured the espresso into a mug, mixed in the rich hot chocolate, and topped the whole affair with a dusting of cocoa powder, ground cinnamon, and maple sugar. 

He brought the heavenly beverage around the counter to present it to Tessa, where she had been watching Scott with hungry eyes. He set it down and wrapped an arm around her, turning her body to face him. She ran he fingers along his sides, a shiver running up his body, and around to his back to explore the planes of muscles there. Scott pulled her to him then, kissing her slow and sweet, like pouring cold maple syrup. She wound her hands into his hair; perfectly tuggable. He tasted like the chocolate in her cup, dark and bold, swirling in one rich and delicious mouthful. Tessa sighed into him, enjoying the lazy start to the day, and pulled back to rest her forehead against Scott’s, not minding his damp espresso coloured hair that dangled in her eyes. He pressed his nose to hers and she could she her own happiness mirrored in his eyes. 

“Morning, Virtch.”

\--

The domesticity of those tender moments made her heart ache. She wondered if Scott had been thinking of that day as he made her this hot chocolate. They were no longer lovers, but love comes in different forms, doesn’t it?

While they drove to their spot, Tessa sipped on her mix of coffee and hot chocolate as the two of them chatted about what they’d been doing since the tour ended. Tessa keeping busy with appearances and commitments, Scott choosing to stay closer to home to work in the shop, plan his wedding- a challenge to do long distance, and start his new restoration project.

As it turned out, Scott was actually quite good at driving the old truck. Though the gears were worn and the clutch was loose, he seemed to know just how to wiggle the four-on-the-floor stick into gear effortlessly.

Scott let the truck coast to a stop on the top of the hill they always went to when they were in London, put the truck into neutral, and depressed the parking brake. 

As Tessa turned her head to gaze at the horizon through the windshield, Scott let himself study her in silence, her profile silhouetted in the twilight. She hadn’t maintained the short haircut she got during the summer and her hair hung down past her shoulders in gentle waves. There were bags under her eyes, just like he had.

He poured himself some coffee with just a touch of the chocolatey goodness – inverse to how Tessa took hers – and reached for her hand.

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying just being together, keeping their cups full and their hands clasped, back in the bubble they had so carefully curated throughout their relationship as they waited for the sun to make its appearance.

“Come here, Tess,” Scott raised his arm to invite her to scoot over and lean against his side. She slid across the seat and leaned her head to rest on his chest, trying to listen for the thrum of his familiar heart-beat, and wrapped her arms around him. Scott let his head rest on top of hers, brushing the fluff of her pom pom out of his face as he did so. 

“Scott?” Tessa asked as the first rays of the solstice sun began to touch the frosty ground around them, “what changes do you think we need to make to our programs going into Nationals and Worlds?”

Scott scoffed and rolled his eyes. “If this is your way of saying you want to go for 2022, you should stop right there, Virtch,” he said jokingly, poking her in the ribs. 

Tessa giggled. 

“But if what we’re doing now is our new program, then what I want to do different and better going forward is see more of you. I still think of some dumb joke and turn to tell you, but you’re not there. I miss being around you, T,” he squeezed her a little tighter.

“I don’t have anyone to help me work out my bad comedic timing with either.” Tessa frowned. “We still need each other, don’t we? We have to make it a priority to spend time with each other, now. It won’t just happen anymore,” she said, looking up into Scott’s emotive, hazel eyes.

“We do,” Scott nodded in agreement. “You know what, kiddo? I’ve got a toboggan in the back, we can start working on our latest jokes while we’re the first to make tracks in this beautiful powder.”

“Come on then, Moir. Let’s go!” Tessa pushed herself off him and leapt out of the truck, avoiding the untrustworthy running board, and into the snow, sparkling like a field of diamonds in the soft morning light. 

Scott shut off the truck, praying that it would start again after it sat in the cold, grabbed the toboggan and dropped it at the crest of the hill. He sat down at the back, Tessa sat between his legs, reached for his hands, pulling them around her in a hug, and leaned back into his strong chest as they took off. They flew down the hill in the first rays of dawn, the first to make tracks wherever they pleased in the untouched snow.

This is how she’d like to remember her best friend: care-free and hers alone, cheeks flushed from the cold and her company, his deep laugh ringing out over the hillside in the winter solstice sun-shine.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think! I'll be in the comments below or on Twitter @redrover_15


End file.
